The Days of His Life
by seriousJACKfan
Summary: Shannon intercepted the nun as she was just about to enter the orphanage's front door. She simply thrust the baby into Sister Ellen's arms, and walked away. "What's his name?" Ellen asked, cuddling the baby. Shannon didn't even turn as she replied; "Jonathan." J/S established. J.O'Neill, S. Carter, OC
1. Chapter 1

**I apologize for starting a new story before my WIP (Upgrades Have Consequences) is finished. This idea came along and simply wouldn't be ignored.**

 **THE DAYS OF HIS LIFE**

 **St. Catherine's Children's Home, Chicago, December 1952**

The only name the girl gave was Shannon.

Ellen couldn't tell if that was her first name or her last. Shannon had intercepted the novice nun as she was just about to enter St. Cat's front door. She simply thrust the baby into Ellen's arms, and walked away.

"Wait, please!" Ellen called after her, following her down the steps of the orphanage, cuddling the baby close to protect it from the cold December air. "We can help you!"

"Don't need your help." Shannon did not even turn around as she called back over her shoulder. "Just take care of him."

"What's his name?"

"Jonathan."

The young novice Sister stood on the sidewalk before the entrance to St. Catherine's Children's Home, and watched the girl walk rapidly south along Churchill Road. Within moments she vanished around the next corner.

Briefly Ellen stared at the spot where Shannon had disappeared. Then the baby began to whimper, and her attention was diverted to the small bundle in her arms. "Shh, baby Jonathan," she whispered softly. "You're all right. I'll take good care of you. I promise."

Jonathan grew quiet and his eyes opened and looked straight up into Ellen's, as if to say, "I know you will." His eyes were dark brown, his little round cheeks were pink from the cold, his hair was light brown fuzz, and his tiny lips pursed a perfect bow. Those lips suddenly quirked in a sweet one-sided smile and Ellen fell instantly in love.

The oldest of ten children, eighteen-year-old Ellen McNamara had a lot of experience taking care of babies. She knew when to expect the first smiles, the first words, the first steps—all those important milestones. She was an expert at soothing a sick or fussy child, or distracting a cranky one. Every child she came in contact with adored her, and she loved each and every one right back. She was delighted when her novitiate assignment was here at St. Catherine's.

Ellen's thoughts turned back to the girl, Shannon. She'd looked so young. Fifteen—sixteen at the most. Her dark auburn hair was pulled into a tight ponytail, and the deep brown eyes already had a hard edge to them. Jonathan had Shannon's eyes.

The wind picked up and Ellen shivered, and held Jonathan closer. She hurried up the steps and into the warm entrance hall of St. Cat's.

At the front desk, Sister Rebecca raised an eyebrow. "Who have we got here?" she asked.

"This is Jonathan," Ellen turned the baby so the older woman could see his face. "A girl handed him to me at the door and then left. She said her name was Shannon, and refused help when I offered it to her. She just asked that we take care of him."

"Another mouth to feed," Sister Rebecca complained, but her eyes lighted up as she stroked his cheek and he made a small baby sound.

"I'll take care of him, Sister. I'll add him to my schedule."

Sister Rebecca smiled at Ellen. "Take him up to the nursery and let Sister Bea know we need to set up another crib. I'll call Father Dennis. How old do you think he is?"

"About six weeks."

"He's kind of small."

"I know," Ellen agreed. "But he smiled at me."

"Gas. Just gas," Sister Rebecca teased. "Now get on upstairs with you. I'll make that call."

Ellen hurried up to the big sunny second floor room which served as St. Catherine's nursery. There were eleven babies under a year old there at the moment. Jonathan would make an even dozen. Four staff members were working in the nursery this morning; the nurse Sister Patricia, Millie and Fay, two other novices, and Sister Beatrice, the nursery supervisor. All four gathered around to see the new arrival.

"He's so cute!" Millie gushed.

"Bring him here and let me check him over," Sister Patricia instructed. She was brisk and businesslike with adults, but always gentle and thorough with the children.

Ellen carried Jonathan over to the examining table—really just a crib with one side lowered, and set on blocks—and laid him down. Sister Patricia began to unwrap the blanket from around him; it was clearly worn, but clean. An envelope fell from its folds. Ellen reached for it instinctively, and then paused and glanced at the nurse, who nodded at her to take it. "Open it."

Ellen slid a finger under the flap and tore it open. There were two sheets of paper. "It's a birth certificate," Ellen said in surprise as she unfolded one of the pages. "Chicago General Hospital. His name is Jonathan Aidan O'Neill. He was born October 20, 1952, at 6.34 p.m. Mother; Katy Shannon O'Neill. Mother's age; 15. No home address, no father's name." She handed the certificate over to Sister Bea, who had joined them. "Six weeks and two days old."

"Well, this is more than we know about some of our children," Sister Bea commented. "What does the other paper say?"

Ellen unfolded the second page. "It's a note. It says; 'I cant keep him cause I got no place to live and my Da says I cant stay in his house with a... bastard..." Ellen stalled, cleared her throat and glanced at Sister Bea, who merely nodded for her to continue. "Jonny's a good baby and dont make much noise. He wont be no trouble. He likes to be rocked.'" Ellen looked up. "That's all, Sister. There's no signature."

Sister Bea and Sister Patricia exchanged a look and Bea sighed and held out her hand for the note. She then called Fay to help her get another crib ready.

Sister Patricia had Jonathan's blankets loosened from his torso by now, and he was lying on his back waving his arms happily. "She took care of him—he's clean and content," she said. "He's a little thin. But we can probably fix that with good nourishment. I don't see any obvious problems." She reached for her stethoscope, and spent several minutes listening to Jonathan's heart, lungs and stomach. "Everything sounds good. Dr. Hannon will look at him when he comes in on Wednesday. No extra clothes, I see. We'll have to find some things for him."

"I'll check the donation boxes," Ellen said. A glint of something caught her eye, and she pushed aside a fold of the blanket to uncover the baby's foot. "Oh, look, there's something tied around his ankle."

The something turned out to be a loosely knotted shoelace threaded through a key ring. Sister Patricia held Jonathan's foot while Ellen untied the lace. Ellen held up the ring. There was a silver charm attached to it—a shamrock. On the back were the letters JO. "Jonathan O'Neill?" Ellen guessed. "The baby's initials?"

"I'm not so sure," Sister Patricia said. "It looks much too old for that. Maybe it belongs to one of the girl's parents."

Ellen stared at the charm. "I see what you mean. The letters are worn. I guess she wanted him to have something that belonged to his family."

Sister Patricia nodded. "Maybe. Put it away for him. We'll give it to him when he's old enough to understand."

Ellen nodded and slipped the shamrock and key ring into her pocket before going to find clothes for baby Jonathan.


	2. Chapter 2

**The Days of His Life**

 **Previously...**

 **Chicago, 1952, St. Catherine's Children's Home**

A glint of something caught Ellen's eye, and she pushed aside a fold of the blanket to uncover baby Jonathan's foot. "Oh, look, there's something tied around his ankle."

The something turned out to be a shoelace threaded through a key ring. Sister Patricia held his foot still while Ellen untied the lace. Ellen held up the ring. There was a silver charm attached to it—a shamrock. On the back were the letters JO. "Jonathan O'Neill?" Ellen guessed. "The baby's initials?"

"I'm not so sure," Sister Patricia said, examining the charm. "It looks much too old for that. Maybe it belongs to one of the girl's parents."

Ellen looked closer. "I see what you mean. The letters are worn. I guess she wanted him to have something that belonged to his family."

Sister Patricia nodded. "Maybe. Put it away for him. We'll give it to him when he's old enough to understand."

Ellen nodded and slipped the shamrock and key ring into her pocket before turning to go find clothes for baby Jonathan.

 **xxxxxxxxxxxx**

 **Chapter 2**

 **The Pentagon, April 11, 2009, 1030 hours**

General Jack O'Neill fingered his key ring absently, only half listening as the Chinese IOA representative enumerated his latest complaints over the phone. Jack's thumb ran slowly back and forth over the worn edges of the old shamrock charm attached to the ring. On the back he could just make out the engraved initials—more than half a century of wear had reduced them to mere scratches.

The red intercom light on his phone began blinking.

"Excuse me, Mr. Liu," he interrupted his caller. "I need to take an important call. I'll be back with you in a moment." Without waiting for a reply, he put Liu on 'hold' and pressed the intercom button. "Yes, Vance?"

"Sir, Colonel Carter and Dr. Jackson are here."

"Oh, good. Send them in. Buzz me again in three minutes if I'm not off this blasted call! And hold my calls after that, Captain."

"Yes, sir."

Jack switched back to Liu. "I apologize, Mr. Liu. My aide just reminded me of an important appointment that I'd forgotten. Oh, yes, come on in," he added, speaking aside to Sam and Daniel as they opened the office door. "Mr. Liu, I don't want to miss any of the important points that you've brought up. Please dictate a report listing them all, and have a copy sent to my office as soon as possible. Thank you so much. Good-bye." With a sigh of relief, he dropped the phone back onto its base. "Hey! Your timing is perfect! Got me out of that one!"

"Who was that, Jack?" Daniel asked.

"Chinese IOA rep. Perfectly charming fellow named Liu." Jack stood up and circled the desk to hug his wife and kiss her lips softly. He waved at Daniel over her shoulder.

"She gets a hug and kiss, and all I get is a wave?" Daniel groused good-naturedly.

"Ya wanna kiss, Danny? Here I come!" Jack advanced on the younger man, arms outstretched.

"Get away from me!" Daniel dodged aside, laughing. But he wasn't fast enough and Jack's arms closed around him in a bear-hug. Jack rocked them from side to side enthusiastically, while Daniel pounded on Jack's back in mock horror.

Sam giggled at their antics. It had been three months since the two men had seen each other, and they were enjoying their little charade.

"There," Jack said, releasing him. "Feel better?"

"Oh, yeah," Daniel huffed, making a show of patting and straightening his clothing. "Thanks, Jack."

"Anytime, buddy. And you, Carter—stop giggling!"

"Yessir!" she giggled.

Jack perched on the edge of his desk and pulled Sam over to slip an arm around her waist. Daniel sat in a nearby chair.

"I'm sorry I couldn't meet you kids at the airport," Jack apologized. "Too many people wanting a piece of my time..."

"That's okay, Jack," Sam assured him. "Thank you for sending the car."

"That part's easy. I think they have rows and rows of those cars stashed somewhere—with the drivers!—just waiting for somebody like me to call 'em. So what are you up to the next couple of days, Daniel? I know she's got meetings with DOD here at the Pentagon." He tipped his head toward Sam.

"Archeology conference at GWU for the next three days. Dr. Rayne Bennett is speaking on..."

"That sounds just great!" Jack interrupted. He was _soo_ not listening to a long drawn out description of freshly dug-up artifacts right now! He looked at his watch. It was 1038. "I wish I could take off for lunch with you guys, but I've got a meeting at 1100. I made dinner reservations for us tonight, though. It's that little restaurant you liked the last time you were here, Sam. Hope that's okay?"

"Wonderful," Sam said. "You'll like this place, Daniel. Lots of atmosphere, and good food, too."

"Great." Daniel waved a hand in agreement.

"I've also got an appointment at 1300," Jack said. "Then I've arranged to take the rest of the afternoon off. We can go to my place and just relax. Unless you'd rather..."

He was interrupted when the intercom flashed. Jack scowled and hit the button. "Vance, I said hold my calls..."

"I know, sir. But, it's Father Regan from St. Catherine's. You've always said put them right through."

"Right. Thanks, Lieutenant. Put him on." Jack picked up the phone's handset. "Father Nick! This is a surprise. How are you—What...?" He listened for a full minute, his expression sobering. "When did it happen?" His face paled and his arm tightened around Sam momentarily, then he pulled away, stood up from the edge of the desk and paced across the room, raking one hand through his hair. "How is she?" Another pause, and a whispered, "Oh, God." He sat down abruptly on the large sofa against the far wall. "Isn't there anything... Yes, I see."

Sam and Daniel exchanged looks of alarm.

"I'll be there as soon as I can. A few hours. Tell her I'll be there soon." Pause. Then softly; "I know... Yes, I heard you, Nick. I know what a coma is, but tell her anyway—she may hear you... Thanks... I'll call back as soon as I can arrange a flight. Good-bye, Nick." He pressed the end button, and sat still for several moments, one hand covering his eyes.

"Jack..." Daniel began, but was silenced by the other man's raised hand.

"Just a minute, Daniel..." His voice was strained. He pressed the intercom button on the handset.

Sam crossed the room and sat down beside him, reaching for his hand.

"Yes, sir?" Vance answered.

"Lieutenant, I need you to get me on a flight to Chicago, right away. Let General Franklin know I won't be in the budget meeting, and cancel my afternoon appointment. Also clear the next few days."

"Sir?"

"It's a family emergency, Vance. I don't care if the flight's commercial or military. I need to be there already."

Vance could hear the deep urgency in his boss' voice. "Yes, sir!" He broke the connection.

Sam squeezed his hand. "Jack, what's happened?"

"It's Ellen. She had a massive heart attack a few hours ago." His hand clenched on Sam's. "Nick says they don't expect her to make it through the night."

 **xxxxxxxxxxxxx**


	3. Chapter 3

**This would have been posted a couple of days ago, but FF would not accept my document. Kept telling me the format was not msword (which it is!). I finally thought to change it from docx to rtf format, and that worked. So here's the next chapter.**

 **I know my chapters are short, but I will try to update often enough to keep the story flowing. Thanks for your interest and patience.**

 **Previously...**

Jack hung up the phone and Sam squeezed his hand. "Jack, what's happened?"

"It's Ellen. She had a massive heart attack a couple of hours ago." His hand clenched on Sam's. "Nick says they don't expect her to make it through the night."

 **xxxxxxxxxx**

 **Chapter 3**

 **Jack's condominium, Arlington VA, April 11, 2009, 1110 hours**

"Sister Ellen McNamara raised Jack," Sam explained to Daniel an hour later as they sat in Jack's living room while he packed a bag upstairs. A car was waiting outside to take him to Reagan National Airport, where Vance had arranged for an Air Force LearJet to fly him to Chicago. "She's his mother, in every way except biology."

"What? How do you know this?" Daniel demanded. "Why don't I know this?"

"Well, he never talked about it..."

"Obviously he _did_ talk about it at some point!"

"It was while you were ascended the first time," she explained. "Ellen was diagnosed with cancer and he went to Chicago several times that year. After she recovered, he finally told Teal'c and me where he'd been going, and why."

"That was... more than six years ago." Daniel shook his head. "She raised him you said?"

"He was six weeks old when he was left at St. Catherine's orphanage by his birth mother."

"Left? You mean abandoned?"

"Yes. Sister Ellen was a novice working there at the time. She was eighteen. She loved kids and she had a special relationship with Jack. He grew up there in the orphanage. He was very attached to her from the beginning."

Daniel had a look of disbelief on his face. "I can't believe his birth mother abandoned him. That's terrible."

"She was very young. Fifteen—just a child herself. He doesn't know much about her. She came to the orphanage one morning and simply handed Jack over to Sister Ellen. Her name was Katy Shannon O'Neill. She left Jack's birth certificate and a note wrapped in his blanket. That's how he knows when and where he was born. Ellen told him she had auburn hair and brown eyes—Ellen says his eyes are just like hers. Her age was on the birth certificate. The note said she had nowhere to go and her father wouldn't let her keep her illegitimate child in his house any longer. So she left him with the Sisters."

"Oh, my God," Daniel said softly. For a few moments he was quiet, lost in thought. "Sam, we have to go with him. We can't let him go to Chicago alone."

"I told him I'd go, but he refused..."

"Well, we can't let him refuse," Daniel insisted. "He needs us."

She smiled. "I'd already decided I'm getting on that plane with him. I didn't know if you'd want to come."

"Of course I do."

"Good. I left my suitcase in the car. I don't think he noticed."

Daniel looked over to where his bag was sitting near the door. "I'll take mine out and put it in the trunk now." He stood up. "Why don't you go up and see how he's doing."

 **xxx**

When they reached his house, Jack had left Sam and Daniel in the living room, and headed upstairs to pack. In the bedroom he pulled a duffle out of the closet and set it on the bed, then took underwear and tee shirts from his dresser drawer. His gaze landed on the rosary that lay on top of the dresser. After a moment, he dropped the clothing on the bed, then reached out and picked up the cross and beads, cradling them in his palm. He closed his eyes...

The first time Jack lost his faith was in the jungles of Vietnam, battling an enemy that seemed to appear and disappear like ghosts in the forest, leaving behind carnage such as an 17 year old boy raised in a Catholic orphanage could never have conceived of.

He'd recovered that faith when he found Sara, at least for a while—but too many black ops missions, too many months in a desert prison, too much blood on his hands, had all slowly worn it away once more, replacing it with a deep cynicism.

Then Charlie was born, and for eight glorious years Jack again believed in the goodness of God and the universe.

He squeezed his eyes tighter, deliberately refusing to dwell on the horrifying incident that had ripped away his belief for the second time.

Now, more than fourteen years later, Jack had come to realize that the faith that had been instilled in him by Ellen McNamara was evidently a deep and immutable part of his psyche. After all that he had seen and experienced in those years, how could he possibly deny that things existed that were far beyond his ability to understand or explain? And God might well be one of them.

He fingered the rosary gently. The old wooden beads and worn crucifix felt smooth as satin against his skin. It was Ellen's when she was a child, and she gave it to Jack when she taught him his prayers. It had been a while since he'd employed them, but his hands and heart had not forgotten the ritual. He closed his eyes as he touched each one, softly murmuring the prayers.

 **xxx**

Sam found Jack standing motionless in their bedroom, his back to the door. His duffle was open on the bed, and a few items of clothing lay beside it. When he realized someone was there, he turned, dropping something in his pocket as he did so.

"Want some help?" she asked gently, going to him and putting her arms around him. He was still wearing his blues. "Do you want to change your clothes?"

He shook his head. "No. This is fine. I just want to get going."

"Okay." She gave him a squeeze and moved over to look at the items he'd collected so far. "You've got underwear and tee-shirts here. You'll need a few more things. Get your shaving kit from the bathroom." He obeyed as she quickly assembled his clothes—a second dress shirt, a pair of chinos and a pair of jeans, a couple of casual shirts, and sweats. In less than ten minutes they had joined Daniel downstairs. From the front closet, Sam added Jack's leather jacket to his bag.

In the end Sam and Daniel were surprised at how little argument Jack put up when they announced their intention of coming with him. He didn't even seem surprised.

The LearJet was ready to leave when they arrived at the airfield. The co-pilot met them at the stairs, and escorted them aboard. Five minutes after they buckled their seat belts, the plane taxied out onto the runway.

Sam sat beside Jack and he held tightly to her hand. She could feel his wedding ring pressing against her knuckle. Idly, she ran her thumb around her own ring. Daniel sat across the aisle. For the first half hour of the flight, they were quiet, and then Jack started to talk.

"Ellen's the oldest of ten children, and she took care of a lot of babies," he began. "By the time she was nine she knew that she wanted to be a nun. She loved working in the orphanage. She'd only been there a few months when I came along. I was told I took to her immediately..."

 **xxxxxxxx**

 **TBC. Upcoming: Learn what happened when couples attempted to adopt Baby Jonathan!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Previously...**

On the plane Sam sat beside Jack and he held tightly to her hand. She could feel his wedding ring pressing against her knuckle. Idly, she ran her thumb around her own ring. Daniel sat across the aisle. For the first half hour of the flight, they were quiet, and then Jack started to talk.

"Ellen's the oldest of ten children, and she took care of a lot of babies," he began. "By the time she was nine she knew that she wanted to be a nun. She loved working in the orphanage. She'd only been there a few months when I came along. I was told I took to her immediately..."

 **xxxxxxxxxxx**

 **St. Catherine's Children's Home, July, 1953**

Sister Rebecca listened in bemusement to the desperate man's voice coming over the phone;

"We're so sorry! We wanted this to work... we really did! We love him... he's beautiful... he's amazing. But for some reason he hates us! All he does is scream—all the time!"

The loud shrieking in the background bore witness to the truth of this statement. At nine months, Jonathan had a very well-developed pair of lungs! There was also the distraught sobbing of a woman, no doubt the caller's wife, in perfect counterpoint to the baby's wails.

"We're sorry," the caller repeated. "We just can't do this! Are all babies this unhappy? Every evening when I come home Brenda is hysterical, and Jonny is screaming. He cries all day and all night! You'd think he'd cry himself to sleep sometime! We're going to have to bring him back to you..." He paused and drew a ragged breath. "We're so sorry, Sister," he said, clearly agonized.

After some soothing words, Sister Rebecca hung up the phone, and looked around at the waiting faces. Father Dennis was frowning and shaking his head. Sister Bea's hand covered her mouth and her eyes were downcast. Sister Mary Marguerite, St. Catherine's Director, wore a stern, disapproving expression. Sister Veronica's eyes gazed heavenward. Ellen was standing in the background, biting her lip and trying to hide the flare of hope in her heart.

"Well, he only lasted a week this time," Sister Veronica commented.

"This is the third family that has returned him," Father Dennis exclaimed. "What's wrong with the child? Is he ill?"

No one answered him. Sister Bea's hand slipped enough for Sister Rebecca to catch a glimpse of the smile she was fighting. Sister Rebeccca also felt like smiling, but one look at Father Dennis and Sister Mary Marguerite made her think twice about the idea.

The Petersons arrived within the hour, with a screaming Jonathan. Ellen hurried to meet them at the entrance, her arms reaching out for the baby, who almost flung himself into her embrace. He hugged his little body so close against hers that they seemed to meld, and laying his head on her shoulder, with one final gulp and sniffle, he fell instantly sound asleep.

The others stared.

Ellen turned away, not wanting the poor would-be parents to see the joy in her face. "I'll take him up to the nursery," she said, and headed for the stairs, leaving the others to deal with the Petersons.

From the beginning Jonathan was such a delightful baby that every couple who had seen him was charmed, captivated. Within a month of arriving at St. Cat's he had been chosen by an adoptive family. The paperwork was being processed, and the final legal steps were in motion. Smiling and happy, the Wilsons took him home.

Three days later they called, saying Jonathan would not eat, he whimpered all the time he was awake, he was listless and slightly warm. The Wilsons were young, sincere and willing, but not experienced, and they clearly had no idea what to do with such a fussy baby. Sister Patricia suggested that they take him to their doctor.

The doctor could find nothing definitive wrong with him. His ears and throat looked fine. There were no sores or bruises that might be bothering him. No cough or sniffle. His chest was clear of congestion. His temperature was normal. Perhaps he was coming down with something, the doctor said, but he'd need more to go on in order to treat him. He was clean and well cared-for and the doctor had no reason to think he was being neglected.

The Wilsons took Jonathan back home. The situation got worse. All he did was cry and sleep. They changed his formula, and he began to eat a little more, but still only the bare minimum. The couple was alarmed. Did he have some sickness that would become serious as he got older? He lost weight. Again the doctor could not find the problem. His fussiness increased in frequency and volume. After nearly three weeks of frustration, the Wilsons gave up, stopped the adoption process, and, both of them in tears and apologizing profusely, returned him to the orphanage.

Back at St. Cat's, Jon instantly transformed into the happy, active, enchanting baby that he had been before. He ate voraciously and soon regained his lost weight. Everyone was completely mystified by what had happened.

Jonathan was three months old by this time, and was interacting more and more with the people around him. The Sisters all adored him. He was happy to smile and play with any of them. But he was especially joyful when Ellen was around—and it soon became clear that he was her favorite, too. Not that she neglected the other babies, she would never do that. She loved them all! There was just something special about Jonathan.

He was nearly five months old when the Whittingtons came along. This time Jon went into full blown shrieking mode as soon as they took him out of the building. The couple wheedled and cajoled and finally managed to get him in the car to take him home.

The Whittingtons were very well-to-do. Mr. Whittington was a lawyer. Mrs. Whittington was from a prominent, wealthy family and had a large circle of friends. They lived a very busy social life—many parties, visits to the country club, outings with friends. They did not intend to give up any of their activities in order to raise a child. Jon was put in the care of a nanny. The first nanny they hired for him was named Kelly. They tried taking him and Kelly along on their outings. When he screamed, they blamed Kelly. She quit after one week. The second nanny lasted ten days. She left without any notice, simply walking out and leaving Mrs. Whittington with the baby. It took three days to find a less-than-perfect replacement, and by then the couple were desperate and almost on the verge of divorce. This third nanny stayed for only two days.

The Whittingtons brought Jonathan back to St. Catherine's early on a Saturday morning. Ellen took Jonathan straight up to the nursery, where he laughed so happily that she knew he was glad to be home.

Most of the sisters began to catch on soon afterwards. Rebecca, Bea, Veronica, Patricia, Ellen—they all realized what was happening... So they were not really surprised that Jonathan had now been returned by the Petersons. They were being manipulated by a master!

 **En route to Chicago, April 11, 2009, 1315 hours**

Sam and Daniel were both laughing as Jack finished the story Sister Ellen had told him so many times, about the way he'd thwarted all attempts to adopt him, even as an infant.

"There were other times, too," Jack said with a smile. "There was this one family when I was about two and a half... I broke things. Lamps. Windows. Vases. I wasn't there very long at all. By the time I was three or four I learned to be quiet and frown and look sullen and to ignore people when they tried to talk me. That wasn't the kind of kid they wanted, so I was left pretty much alone." He chuckled. "Sister Ellen scolded me for behaving like that. She said I really should have a family. I told her I already had one."

"Why didn't she adopt you?" Daniel asked.

"It wasn't allowed. The Sisters couldn't adopt. You serve where the Church sends you. I was just lucky Ellen was at St. Cat's. She could have been sent somewhere else, I suppose. Of course, the orphanage didn't want to lose her. She's fabulous with kids. She's the Administrator of St. Cat's now." He sighed, falling silent as the narrative brought him back around to the present reality.

 **xxxxxxxxx**

 **How realistic is this? Probably not much. Any sincere adoptive couple would not give up on a baby just because he was fussy. But it was the best way I could come up with to keep Jack at the orphanage. I mean, we all know he must have been an adorable baby! Right!? Check out RDA's website to see pictures of him as a child.**

 **I will be away for the next ten days or so—a wedding this weekend and some business to attend to next week. But I will update again as soon as I return. Thanks for your patience!**

 **TBC. Upcoming: Some background—Jack and the McNamara family.**


	5. Chapter 5

**I'm back. The wedding last weekend was fabulous! And the remainder of the week was very productive. This chapter is not very long, but I wanted to get it posted before you all forgot about the story :-)!**

 **Thank you to everyone for reading!**

 **Previously...**

 **En route to Chicago, April 11, 2009**

Sam and Daniel were both laughing as Jack finished the story Sister Ellen had told him so many times, about the way he'd thwarted every attempt to adopt him, even as an infant.

Jack smiled. "By the time I was three or four I learned to be quiet and frown and look sullen and to ignore people when they tried to talk to me. That wasn't the kind of kid they wanted, so I was left pretty much alone." He chuckled. "Sister Ellen scolded me for behaving like that. She said I really should have a family. I told her I already had one."

"Why didn't she adopt you?" Daniel asked.

"It wasn't allowed. The Sisters couldn't adopt. You serve where the Church sends you. I was just lucky Ellen was at St. Cat's. She could have been sent somewhere else, I suppose. Of course, the orphanage didn't want to lose her. She's fabulous with kids. She's the Director of St. Cat's now." He sighed, falling silent as the narrative brought him back around to the present reality.

 **xxxxxx**

 **Chapter 5**

 **En route to Chicago, April 11, 2009, 1315 hours**

Sam and Daniel exchanged glances as Jack's expression sobered, and the silence lengthened.

"You said Ellen is the oldest of a large family?" Daniel prompted, hoping to distract his friend.

Jack nodded. "Yeah. There were ten of them originally. Five girls and five boys. Brendan and Sally died when they were children, before I came along. Jamie was killed in Vietnam in 1970. Joe died of cancer in '06. That leaves Molly, Dylan Jr., Susan, David, Betsy and Ellen. David, Jamie and Betsy were the three youngest—the ones I've been closest to." He paused. "Except for Ellen, of course," he added softly. After a moment, he went on. "Ellen's parents, Dylan and Bridget McNamara, were the best grandparents I could have hoped for. Dylan was in the Navy during World War II, and fought in the Pacific. He was a carpenter, and taught me woodworking. I helped him build the cabin when I was teenager."

"The one in Minnesota?" Daniel asked.

"Yeah. I think it was 1966 or '67. He took me and Jamie and David up there for three months." Jack grinned slightly. "Betsy was very insulted to be was left out. Bridget wasn't happy because we missed a couple weeks of school, but Dylan said learning a skill was more important."

"So, if the cabin was Dylan McNamara's, how did you end up with it?" Daniel asked. "What about his own kids?"

"I guess it was because I spent more time up there. He didn't give it to me or anything like that. I bought it from him in 1984. None of the kids objected—I told them they could come and use it anytime. Once in a while, some of them did—still do. After I bought the cabin I took Dylan up there as often as I could over the next years," Jack said. "He died there in 1998. I wasn't with him that time. Betsy had taken him up, hoping to get him to take an interest in life again. Bridget passed the year before that, and he just lost his will. I guess he figured the cabin was a good place to give it up." Jack drew a breath and let it out slowly. "We were on Klorel's ha'tak at the time, stopping Apophis' attack on Earth. If you remember, I took a week off then. Went to Chicago for the funeral."

"I remember you being gone for a while," Daniel said, nodding.

"Yeah. I got a call from Bets the same day we got back. She said he'd gone quietly... in his sleep..." Jack paused for a moment, then cleared his throat and changed the subject. "Betsy's the best at keeping in touch—calls me a couple of times a month. She's the youngest—a little younger than me. We were best friends when we were growing up."

They were interrupted at that point when the co-pilot came back to tell them they were twenty minutes from landing at O'Hare International. There would be a car waiting there to take them to Chicago General Hospital. Jack thanked the co-pilot, and he returned to the cockpit.

Sam then asked about something that had confused her. "Did you live with Bridget and Dylan, and not with Ellen at St. Catherine's?"

"Officially, I lived at the orphanage. But I spent a lot of time at the McNamaras'. They were in the neighborhood, just a couple blocks away. All of us kids went to the same school—the kids from the orphanage and the McNamara kids—Christ the King Elementary, then later to Westside High. I graduated from Westside in 1970, four months after Jamie was killed. I joined the Air Force right after graduation. A few months later I was in Vietnam."

"I thought you went to the Academy," Daniel said.

"I did. After my tour in Nam, my CO recommended me there. I was a little older than most of my classmates, but there were quite a few of us who had already served."

"There were several veterans in my Academy class, too," Sam commented.

"Ellen was so proud when I told her I'd been accepted to the Academy," Jack said with a soft smile. "She hadn't liked me joining up when I did, but she accepted it. I'm sure she worried while I was in Nam, but she never let me know. I expect one reason she was happy for my acceptance was that she hoped the war would be history by the time I graduated." He made a wry face. "She's never known about the black ops missions—or about the stargate, of course."

A few minutes later, the seat belt sign flashed on and the plane began its descent to O'Hare. They landed smoothly, and taxied to a remote hanger where a limousine was waiting for them with an escort, a Major Johnston from Evanston Air Base. The Major met them at the aircraft and walked with them to the car.

"Sir," Major Johnston said to Jack. "Your aide called ahead and rooms have been reserved for you at the River View Hotel, just three blocks from the hospital. Would you prefer to go there first?"

Jack shook his head. "No. Take us to the hospital. Thank you, Major."

"You're welcome, sir." Johnston held the door until Jack had settled in beside Sam.

The ride to Chicago General Hospital took forty-five minutes from the airport. It was 1530 hours when they exited the car at the hospital entrance. Two additional Air Force officers met them there, and escorted them to the hospital's cardiac wing, where they took the elevator to the sixth floor.

 **TBC. Upcoming: Meeting the McNamaras.**


	6. Chapter 6

**As always, thank you all so much for reading and commenting on my story!**

 **Previously...**

The LearJet landed smoothly at O'Hare, and taxied to a remote hanger where a limousine was waiting for them with an escort, a Major Johnston from Evanston Air Base. The Major met them at the aircraft and walked with them to the car.

The ride to Chicago General Hospital took forty-five minutes from the airport. It was 1530 hours when they exited the car at the hospital entrance. Two additional Air Force officers, a captain and a lieutenant, met them there, and escorted them to the hospital's cardiac wing, where they took the elevator to the sixth floor.

 **XXXXXXXXXX**

 **Chicago General Hospital, April 11, 2009, 1540 hours**

The sign on the door read Cardiac ICU, and the Air Force Captain held the door open for General O'Neill and his party. The two junior officers stationed themselves on either side of the door. Major Johnston followed O'Neill, and held himself at a discreet distance from the General, far enough to allow privacy, but nearby if he was needed.

Jack, Sam and Daniel found themselves in a waiting area, where a number of people were gathered, seated on chairs or couches, or pacing the open space. Eyes turned toward them, and a tall, slender woman with pale red hair was first to hurry in their direction.

"Jacky," she said, holding out her arms.

Jack took several swift steps toward her, and swept her up in a hug, burying his face in her neck. "Bets!" he managed after a moment. "Is she...?"

"She's waiting for you, Jack." A silver-haired man of about sixty was only two steps behind his sister and reached out for Jack's hand.

"David," Jack said, thinking how much David had grown to look like his father. He shook the hand, keeping his arm around Betsy's shoulders, and then the three of them were hugging one another tight.

"Jon." A woman perhaps fifteen years older than Jack approached more sedately. "It's good to see you."

"Good to see you, too, Molly." Jack gave her a hug and released her in time to be clapped on the back by a heavy-set, balding man with a genial face.

"Jack! So glad you're here!" The man had a booming voice to match his girth.

"Dylan! You're looking good." The two men shook hands.

Jack greeted Dylan's wife Annie and David's wife Jo with hugs also, and shook hands with Molly's husband John Standley. Several of the brothers' and sisters' children gathered around to greet their Uncle Jack.

In the meantime, Sam had been welcomed by Betsy, followed by Dylan and David, and she had introduced Daniel Jackson to the group. It was clear to Daniel that they were all very fond of Sam.

 **~x~**

"When did you first meet Jack's family?" Daniel asked Sam a bit later, as they stood to the side watching Jack interact with the McNamaras.

"A couple of months before he and I got married," she replied. "We came to Chicago so he could introduce me."

"But they didn't come to the wedding."

She grinned. "You remember how that was, Daniel. We decided to do it in Vegas on the spur of the moment—just before I had to take up my assignment on the Hammond. We only had twelve hours until I needed to report to the ship. We barely managed to get you and Teal'c out there with us. "

"Yeah, that's true. I guess that was too short notice for any of them to make it." He thought about that for a few moments. "So have you met all the McNamaras?"

"Well, not all of them. There are a dozen or so nieces and nephews—or cousins, however you want to think of them. After all, Jack was never technically a member of the family, but he mostly regards them as siblings. Even though Ellen is like a mother to him—it's confusing." She shrugged wryly. "I've only been up here twice in the year since we got married."

"Big family," Daniel commented, watching the group around Jack.

"Yes. And they're very close. Jack stays in touch."

"I still can't believe I never knew about any of this." There was a trace of hurt in his voice.

"He didn't mean to leave you out, Daniel," she said gently. "We just haven't seen much of you for these past months. Every time I got leave from the Hammond, I was in D.C. And this isn't something he wanted to put into an email or talk about over the phone."

"Yeah. I suppose." He knew this was not the time or place to bring up his hurt feelings. "It's fine, Sam. The important thing is that we be here for Jack when he needs us."

"Thanks, Daniel." She reached up and kissed his cheek.

 **~x~**

"Susan?" Jack asked David during a lull in the conversation.

"She won't leave the convent," David replied. "She's completely reclusive now. Won't even receive visitors."

Jack nodded his understanding.

Susan McNamara had been deeply traumatized by the death from polio of her twin sister, Sally, when the girls were six, and had barely spoken to anyone for a long time afterward. She remained largely silent and withdrawn throughout her childhood and adolescence. When she was of age, she took vows in a cloistered order in Michigan, where she had lived now for over forty years.

Betsy had gone to find the nurse, and brought her back to introduce Jack. "This is my sister's son, Jack O'Neill. He's just arrived and would like to see her."

The nurse took in Jack's dress blues and the stars on his shoulders with some surprise, but quickly recovered. "Yes, of course. Come with me." Jack's relationship to the family had obviously been explained to her. She had a kind face and her name tag identified her as Sylvia Keene, RN. "She's been unconscious ever since she was found—nearly nine hours. Don't be surprised if she doesn't respond to you."

"I understand." He glanced back to where Sam and Daniel were standing across the room. Sam's eyes met his, asking silently if she should come. He smiled slightly and shook his head.

Jack walked with the nurse to Ellen's room. Sylvia seemed slightly surprised when Major Johnston followed them and stationed himself outside the door.

Jack's first sight of the woman in the bed was far more shocking than he'd expected it to be. There were wires and tubes connecting her to monitors beside the bed. An oxygen mask covered her mouth and nose. She seemed very small and frail lying there. And so very still. Never in his life had he ever seen Ellen be still. She was always in motion, always smiling.

Two young women who were sitting beside the bed, talking quietly, stood up when Jack entered. The taller, redheaded one came forward immediately. "Uncle Jack." she put her arms around him and hugged him. "I'm glad you're here."

"Karen," he said, returning the hug. She looked so much like her mother, Betsy, had at her age. He looked over her shoulder at her dark-haired younger sister. "Sandy."

"Hi, Uncle Jack." Betsy's youngest waved shyly.

"Get over here, girl," he commanded gently, holding one arm out to her. She came quickly and buried her face in his shoulder. He could feel her shoulders shaking. "Shh... I know, Baby." Sandy was the youngest of his nieces and nephews and she'd been away at school the last time he visited. He had been her favorite uncle when she was a little girl, but he hadn't seen her very often in the past few years. He had to stop and think how old she'd be—nineteen or twenty; where did the time go?

They stood in the embrace for several moments. Finally Jack released both of the young women, kissing their cheeks softly. "Sam's here with me. Why don't you two go out and say hello to her... okay? I'd like to spend some time with your Aunt Ellen."

The girls nodded. Sandy reached out for another brief hug, and kissed his cheek. "Love you, Uncle Jack."

"I love you both," he replied. He turned to watch as each of them went to the bed and bent down to kiss Ellen's forehead, then left the room.

It was quiet, except for the soft sounds of the monitors and oxygen pump. Jack studied the monitors for a few moments. Ellen's heart rate was fast, and somewhat erratic. He took off his jacket and hung it on the back of a chair, pulled the chair closer, and sat down where he could reach over and take hold of her hand. "I'm here, Ellen," he said softly. "It's me, Jon. I hope you can hear me somehow, and know that I'm with you. I won't leave as long as you need me. You never failed me when I needed you, and I...I..." He stopped, knowing that if he continued he would break down. And he didn't want her to hear him cry.

Reaching into his jacket pocket, he took out the rosary, and sat for several long minutes with it in his hands. At last he leaned over and put it in Ellen's hand and closed her fingers around it, resting it on her chest. Then he picked up her other hand and held it in his.

He was still and quiet for a while then, and his thoughts began to drift back into childhood memories...

 **TBC. Upcoming: a few of Jack's memories...**


	7. Chapter 7

**Apologies for taking a longer time with this chapter. Too many things to do...**

 **Thanks to everyone who reads and comments on my story!**

 **Previously...**

 **Chicago General Hospital, April 11, 2009**

The room was quiet, except for the muted sounds of the monitors and oxygen pump. Jack studied the monitors for a few moments. Ellen's heart rate was fast, and somewhat erratic. He took off his jacket and hung it on the back of a chair, pulled the chair closer, and sat down where he could reach over and take hold of her hand.

"I'm here, Ellen," he said softly. "It's Jon. I hope you can hear me somehow, and know that I'm with you. I won't leave as long as you need me. You never failed me when I needed you, and I...I..." He stopped, knowing that if he continued he would break down. And he didn't want her to hear him cry.

Reaching into his jacket pocket, he took out the rosary, and sat for several long minutes with it in his hands. Finally, he leaned over and put it in Ellen's hand and closed her fingers around it, resting it on her chest. Then he picked up her other hand and held it in his.

He was still and quiet for a while then, and his thoughts began to drift back into childhood memories...

 **XXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

 **Chapter 7**

 **St. Catherine's, August, 1962**

"I'm not going back to school!" Jon declared stubbornly, shoving out his lower lip in defiance of Sister Rebecca's attempts to help prepare him for the first school day of the year—just a week away.

"Jon, you know you have to go. It's important. Why—you'll be in the fifth grade this year! Think of all the new things you'll learn."

"I'm nearly ten, Sister," he scoffed. "I don't need any more school! What can they teach me that I don't already know?!"

Rebecca chuckled. "There are always new things to learn, Jonny. Even I still learn new things every day."

"Really, Sister?" He stared at her in disbelief. "But you're so old!"

Sister Rebecca huffed, a bit offended, but mostly amused. "That doesn't mean I stop learning. Besides, what will you do if you don't go back to school?"

"I'll get a job. Earn money."

"Where are you going to find this job?" Ellen asked from the doorway, where she had been watching them.

"Down on the docks," Jon said, turning toward her confidently. "I'm big and strong. I can work hard."

Ellen saw Rebecca's frown, and said quickly, "Yes, you are big for your age, I'll grant you that. I'll tell you what, Jon... I'll make a deal with you. School starts in ten days. If you can find a job by then, one that will earn you—say, forty dollars a week, then we'll talk again about school."

"Sister Ellen!" Rebecca exclaimed.

Ellen merely smiled and shook her head at the other nun. "Jon?"

"Really?" he asked eagerly, hardly able to believe his ears. "You mean it?"

"I mean it," she promised. "And, by the way, you owe Sister Rebecca an apology for what you said before."

He knew exactly what she meant and hung his head.

Of course, Jack had not found anyone who was willing to pay a ten-year-old kid forty dollars a week. The best he could do was a dollar a day making deliveries for a local market after school. The clerks in the dockside offices where he asked hadn't made fun of him, however. One man complimented him on his willingness to work. Another advised him to stay in school, adding "I wish I had."

 **Chicago General Hospital, April 2009, 1610 hours**

Jack smiled at the memory. Ellen had known he would not be able to find a job on the docks, and thought that finding it out for himself would be a valuable lesson. She'd been right.

His attention was brought back to the present by the click of the opening door, and he raised his head.

"Aaron," he said, rising as he recognized the tall, bespectacled man entering the room.

Dr. Aaron Cohen stepped quickly toward O'Neill and the two men embraced warmly, then stepped back to look each other over. After a few moments Cohen's glance went to the woman in the bed.

"I'm so sorry, Jack," he said, his gaze taking in the monitors' readings in an instant. "Betsy said you were in here. I'd have been in sooner, but there was an emergency. How are you?"

"I don't really know," Jack replied honestly, shaking his head. "What happened, Aaron? I didn't know she had heart problems..."

"Neither did I." Cohen was Ellen's regular physician. "She never mentioned symptoms, and she always checked out fine on her regular visits. The cardiologist, Dr. Samuelson, diagnosed an infarction, which was caused by a clot developing silently."

Aaron was Betsy's husband. Her first husband had passed away eight years earlier, and four years ago she married Aaron, who was a lifelong friend of the younger McNamara siblings, which included Jack. In fact, he and Aaron were especially close growing up, since they were the same age and had gone through school together. Aaron's family had lived just down the block from the McNamaras, and not far from St. Cat's. They graduated together from Westside High School and decided together to join the Air Force...

 **St. Catherine's, June 1970**

"I can't do this without telling Ellen first," Jack decided. "It wouldn't be fair."

Jack and Aaron were sitting on the front steps of St. Cat's late one afternoon, just two days after their high school graduation ceremony.

"We agreed. We're both going to join up," Aaron protested.

"And I will, but I can't just spring it on her as a done deal. Not since Jamie..."

Aaron sighed and pushed up his glasses with one finger. "Yeah, maybe you're right. You're not eighteen yet, either. That might be a problem." Aaron's eighteenth birthday had passed just two weeks earlier.

"It's not that." Jack shook his head. "I'm an emancipated minor—besides, 17 is the age for joining the Air Force. I just think I should tell her first."

"She'll try to talk you out of it."

"I don't think so. She knows I'll be up for the draft in a few months anyway. What did your folks say when you told them?"

"They get it," Aaron said. "I had an automatic deferment until after graduation, but now they can take me anytime. At least if I join up I may have some choices."

"What about college? You're still planning to go to med school, right?"

"Yeah, but you have to get deferments every semester. So I could be pulled out if I have a bad term. I figure it's easier to go ahead and serve the two years, and then go to college uninterrupted." Aaron leaned back against the step and stretched. "Are you gonna tell her tonight?"

Jack nodded. "No point putting it off."

"Want me to go along?"

"Nah. That's okay. Thanks, though." Jack stood up. "I'll come around in the morning and we'll go downtown."

Aaron reached up a hand and Jack pulled him to his feet. "Okay. See you in the morning."

Aaron jogged away down the street as Jack climbed the steps to the front door of St. Cat's.

After dinner that evening, Jack and Ellen took some of the boys down to the ball field three blocks away for a pick-up game. They sat on the wooden bench off to the side to watch.

"What's wrong, Jon?" she asked after watching him fidget for ten minutes or so.

He took a breath. Might as well get it over with, he thought. "Aaron is going down tomorrow and join the Air Force," he said, staring down at his hands. "I'm going with him." She didn't say anything right away, so after a few moments he continued. "I'll be 18 in four months and the draft will get me anyway. I'd rather join the flyboys than be in the Army. Maybe I'll have some options this way—at least, that's what Aaron thinks. I'm a pretty good mechanic, maybe they'll train me to service helicopters."

"Jon..." she began, but her voice broke. She breathed deeply for a minute. "So soon..."

He closed his eyes. It was just four months since Jamie was killed over there. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "But I have to do this... It's important." He couldn't tell her that he needed some kind of redress for Jamie's death, and this was the only way he could think of to get it. He didn't know if it would help, but he had to try.

They sat in silence for some time. Jack felt as if he were watching Ellen's heart break.

Finally, she nodded. "Do what you need to do, Jon." Her voice was steady and calm. She looked him in the eye and there was no anger or blame or bitterness there. If she was afraid for him she didn't let it show.

After they took the kids back to St. Cat's, Ellen went to her parents' house. She couldn't let them be blindsided by this news. They loved Jack as much as they did their own kids. Bridget cried when Ellen told her what Jack was planning to do, but Dylan simply nodded, as if he weren't surprised at all. He put his arm around Ellen's shoulders and hugged her. "There was a time when I had to go, too," he said. "And you understood."

"Yes, I did," she agreed, remembering back to the months after Pearl Harbor. "But I had a child's faith that you would be all right. It's a little different on the adult side of the fence."

"Jack is a good boy," Dylan said. "And he's going to be a good man. You raised him to be responsible and to do what's right. You can't stop him when he decides to go and do it."

Ellen sighed. "Of course I won't stop him. I couldn't if I wanted to. He'll be eligible for the draft in four months, anyway. Maybe this will give him some choices, like he said."

Dylan nodded. "Maybe so."

The next day Jack and Aaron went to the Air Force recruiting office to sign up. As it turned out, Aaron was rejected because of his eyesight, but Jack was in perfect health, and was accepted immediately.

 **TBC. Upcoming: Ellen's prognosis.**


	8. Chapter 8

**Please note that I do** **not** **have medical training! If I make a mistake regarding any medical condition or treatment, I apologize. Please accept it as merely part of the story.**

 **Previously...**

 **Chicago, June 1970**

"Jack is a good boy," Dylan McNamara reminded his daughter. "And he's going to be a good man. You raised him to be responsible and to do what's right. You can't stop him when he decides to go and do it."

Ellen sighed. "Of course I won't stop him. I couldn't if I wanted to. He'll be eligible for the draft in four months, anyway. Maybe this will give him some choices, like he said."

Dylan nodded. "Maybe so."

The next day Jack and Aaron went to the Air Force recruiting office to sign up. As it turned out, Aaron was rejected because of his eyesight, but Jack was in perfect health, and was accepted immediately.

 **xx**

"What happened, Aaron?" Jack asked his friend as the two men stepped back after their greeting. "I didn't know she had any heart problems..."

"Neither did I." Aaron was Ellen's regular physician. "She never mentioned symptoms, and she always checked out fine on her regular visits. The cardiologist, Dr. Samuelson, diagnosed an infarction, which was caused by a clot developing silently."

 **XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

 **Chapter 8**

 **Chicago General Hospital, April 11, 2009**

"What's her prognosis?" Jack asked Aaron, looking over at Ellen's still form as he spoke.

Aaron shook his head. "Not good." He laid a hand on Jack's arm. "The scans we took showed heart damage. There was a blockage in the right coronary artery."

"I thought blockages could be dissolved?" Jack frowned as he asked the question.

"Yes, they can. But it has to be done quickly. Ellen was alone in her room when this happened, Jack, and she wasn't found for quite some time. We think it was at least three hours. The damage had been done."

"I see." Jack lowered his head and closed his eyes, rubbing at a spot between his eyes that was beginning to ache.

"Are you okay?"

"Just a headache." He straightened. "Any idea what her chances are?"

"Dr. Samuelson performed an angioplasty to open the artery, and she's on clot-busting meds. It's all he can do. Now we just have to wait and see."

"Nick called me this morning to let me know," Jack said. "He told me I should hurry home because she isn't expected to live through the night."

Aaron frowned, thinking that Nick Regan had all the tact of bull in a china shop. He was definitely not the person Aaron would have picked to notify Jack of what had happened! He nodded reluctantly. "As I said, Samuelson has done what he can..." His grip on Jack's arm tightened as he saw Jack's face pale. "Sit down, Jack." Aaron forcibly urged him back into the chair and pulled over another to sit beside him, fingers automatically reaching to check his friend's pulse.

"I'm okay. Stop that!" Jack insisted, batting the hand away.

Aaron poured water from a pitcher on the side table into a paper cup, and held it out. "Here, drink this." Jack took the cup and drank, but not without a glare at his friend, a look that Aaron ignored. "When did you eat last?"

Jack shrugged shortly. "I don't know! Breakfast?" He put up a hand to forestall the doctor's next words. "I'm not the patient here, Aaron."

"And I don't want you to be. But you will if you don't take care of yourself."

"You sound like my wife," Jack grumbled.

"Very smart lady." Just then the door opened and Sam put her head in. Aaron smiled. "Speaking of whom..."

Sam stepped into the room, and frowned as she took in their relative positions and the look on Jack's face. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing..."

Aaron's voice overrode Jack's. "I was just about to tell your husband he should go get something to eat." He rose and turned to embrace her. "How are you, Sam?"

"I'm fine, Aaron. How about you?"

"I'm good." He kissed her cheek. "Why don't you take this man to get some food?"

"I think food is a great idea," Sam agreed. "You missed lunch, Jack. Daniel and I snacked on the plane, but you didn't have anything."

"I'm not hungry," Jack objected, somewhat belligerently.

"Well, why don't we at least take a walk. Stretch your legs. You've been in here for over an hour."

Jack frowned. It couldn't have been that long. "I don't..."

"Molly's son Ben just arrived from Louisiana," she continued, ignoring his attempt to interrupt. "He'd like to come in and see Ellen."

Jack drew a breath and sighed. "Okay. But I don't want to stay away..." He reached over to clasp Ellen's hand for a moment longer. "Thanks, Aaron," he said.

"I'll be around if you need me. Just have me paged," Aaron said quietly, glancing at Sam.

"Come on, Jack," she said softly.

Jack released Ellen's hand, and rose. He took his uniform jacket from the chair and slipped it on, then put his arm around his wife. "Okay."

Aaron followed Jack and Sam out of the room and moved off down the corridor.

Out in the hallway Jack was greeted by Molly's oldest son, Ben Standley. Ben was in his mid forties, a tall, rangy carbon copy of his father, John. He'd been Jack's shadow when he was a kid and Jack was a teenager. The two men shook hands warmly.

"How's it going down in Louisiana, kid?" Jack asked. `

Ben grinned. "Very well, thanks, Jack." A lawyer like his dad, Ben had moved his family to the South a number of years earlier to work for a firm in New Orleans. He glanced at Jack's shoulders. "I heard you got another set of stars. Congratulations."

"Nah..." Jack waved a careless hand. "Playthings."

"Looks like these guys take 'em seriously." Ben indicated Major Johnston, and the AF Lieutenant who had joined him outside Ellen's door.

"Don't worry about that," Jack told him. "How's your family?"

"Very good. Sharon's still teaching at Holy Cross. Joe is at Loyola Law and Dylan's in med school at Tulane."

"That's great." He glanced around. "They're not with you?"

"Sharon's taking a late flight tonight, and both the boys will be up tomorrow." Ben rested his hand on Jack's shoulder, and nodded toward Ellen's room door. "I didn't mean to disturb you..."

"It's okay. Go on in and see her. I think she knows we're all here."

"Yeah, I'm sure she does," Ben said softly, squeezing Jack's arm. "I'll see you later." He quietly opened the door and stepped in and closed the door behind him.

"Jack."

He turned at the sound of his name, and nodded to the priest who had approached as Ben disappeared. "Nick. Good to see you. You remember my wife, Samantha." Jack's arm curled around Sam's waist, drawing her near. He needed the support right now, and was grateful when she put her arm around him.

"Of course, I do." Father Nick Regan reached out and shook her hand. "How are you, Samantha?"

"Very well, Father, thank you."

Regan smiled at her. He was a good-looking man, despite the scar that marred one side of his face. His blond hair, though cut short, was thick and shiny, and he had warm green eyes. His smile was equally warm and genuine.

Father Regan turned to Jack. "How are you holding up, Jack?"

Jack rubbed the back of his neck. "Honestly, Nick, I don't know. This was a real shock."

"It was to us all. No one no one thought she had any heart troubles." The priest shook his head sadly.

"Yeah. That's what Aaron said."

"I was just taking Jack to get something to eat, Father," Sam interjected, intent on fulfilling her mission, and not allowing Jack to be distracted. "Would you like to join us?"

Father Regan saw the determined look in Sam's eyes. "No, thank you. I want to go in and sit with Sister Ellen for a few minutes after Ben leaves. I'll see you later, Jack."

Sam and Jack headed back to the waiting area, followed by the AF escort, and announced that they were going to the cafeteria. Daniel joined them, along with David and Jo and their children Denis and Bridget, as well as Betsy, Karen and Sandy. They picked up sandwiches, salads and drinks from the food line, and found a large table.

Jack drank his coffee and stared at the turkey sandwich he had chosen until Sam insisted that he take a few bites. He knew better than to argue with her, and after eating about half the sandwich, he had to admit that he felt steadier. He listened to the conversation around the table. Denis was interested in the fact that Daniel was an archeologist. Karen and Bridget, who were the same age, and had always been close, were comparing notes on their lives. Sam was talking with Sandy, who was majoring in physics at the University of Chicago. Jack's thoughts wandered, and eventually the voices became simply background noise...

 **TBC. Upcoming: More of Jack's memories.**


	9. Chapter 9

**My apologies for the long wait between updates. I'll try to do better next time.**

 **XXXXXX**

 **Previously...**

 **Chicago General Hospital cafeteria, April 11, 2009**

Sam and Jack returned to the waiting area, followed by the AF escort, and announced that they were going to the cafeteria. Daniel joined them, along with David and Jo and their children Denis and Bridget, as well as Betsy, Karen and Sandy. They picked up sandwiches, salads and drinks from the food line, and found a large table.

Jack drank his coffee and stared at the turkey sandwich he had chosen until finally Sam insisted that he take a few bites. He knew better than to argue with her, and after eating about half the sandwich, he had to admit that he felt steadier. He listened to the conversation around the table. Denis was interested in the fact that Daniel was an archeologist. Karen and Bridget, who were the same age, and had always been close, were comparing notes on their lives. Sam was talking with Sandy, who was majoring in physics at the University of Chicago. Jack's thoughts wandered, and eventually the voices became simply background noise...

 **St. Catherine's Catholic Church, Chicago, February 17, 1980**

Jack ran his finger around the collar of his dress blues' shirt and swallowed nervously as he stood at the base of the steps leading up to the altar. He could see Ellen, sitting in the front row, smiling at him encouragingly. A hand landed on his shoulder and squeezed lightly. Aaron stood just behind his left shoulder, dressed in a tux.

"Relax, Jack," he whispered. "It's fine. It won't be long now."

"I know. Oh, God! I know!" Jack's voice was a bit louder than he intended, and he blushed. He lowered his voice to a whisper. "If I faint, make sure you wake me up in time to say _I do_."

Aaron chuckled. "You'll be okay, Jack."

"Yes, I will," he agreed determinedly.

He took a couple of deep breaths, and looked out over the guests gathered in the church; Dylan and Bridget McNamara sat beside Ellen, and the rest of that pew, as well as the one behind, was occupied by the other members of the McNamara clan. Betsy was grinning at him widely from her seat beside her husband, Len Brooks. Nearly all of the staff of St. Cat's Children's Home were there, along with most of the older children. He saw several uniforms in the rows, friends of his from the Air Force—Charley Kawalsky, Dave and Marcy Dixon, Lou Ferretti. Even his CO, Colonel Cromwell, was there with his wife.

Jack's eyes were drawn to movement at the back of the church. Two children appeared, a boy and a girl, both looking excited and nervous. The boy was David McNamara's six year old son, Denis, and the girl was Sara's sister Julia's daughter, Francine. Denis was wearing a small tux and Francie was dressed in a pale green, floor length dress. Both were grinning and fidgeting.

Sara's sister Julia, in a pale green gown to match her daughter's, appeared, speaking to both the children, straightening Denis' tie and handing Francie the basket of rose petals that she would carry. She kissed Francie and tousled Denis' hair. Then she positioned the kids in front of her, as they all waited for their cue.

Mike Laughlin came in sight behind Julia, and waited at the door, his attention turned toward something—or someone—in the vestibule. Jack held his breath.

Just then _she_ appeared—a vision in a long white satin gown! Sara joined Mike, who held out his arm. She slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow. He leaned down and kissed his daughter's cheek, then they both turned to face up the aisle, toward the altar. Even from here, Jack could see the way she smiled as her eyes found him.

The soft strains of 'Right here waiting for you,' which had been playing in the background, faded away, and there was a brief moment of quiet. Then the first notes of the Wedding March swelled, filling the church.

Julia nudged the children, and they started down the aisle, holding hands, looking scared and walking too fast. But after a few steps, Francie let go of Denis' hand and began tossing out the rose petals. Julia followed the children down the aisle, pacing herself with the music. A few beats later Mike stepped forward, escorting his daughter down the aisle. The congregation rose as one and turned to watch the bride, whose face was wreathed in smiles.

The ceremony was a blur for Jack. All he could ever remember was Sara's smile. He never knew how he managed the right answers in all the right places. He recalled reaching for Sara's hand, sliding the ring onto her finger. And then the priest was saying the magic words...

"I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride."

Nothing had ever made him happier than this moment, and he pulled her into his arms and leaned down to bring his mouth to hers. "We're married," he whispered against her lips.

When they broke apart, the priest was smiling at them. He raised his hands, indicating that they should turn and face the congregation.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Father Stephens announced. "May I present to you, Mr. and Mrs. O'Neill."

The smiling newlyweds walked back up the aisle to a huge round of applause.

 **Chicago General Hospital cafeteria, April 11, 2009**

How different was his first wedding from his marriage to Sam! Jack couldn't help but compare the two. He and Sam had found a justice of the peace at one of Las Vegas' many wedding venues. Daniel and Teal'c were their only witnesses. No one else even knew it was happening. They had literally joined a line of couples waiting their turn. Five minutes and five hundred dollars, and it was done.

He glanced over at his wife, who was still talking to Sandy. God! He was a lucky man! Two of the most wonderful women he'd ever known had loved him and consented to be his wife. He'd loved both of them with all his heart.

But fate had conspired to destroy his marriage to Sara, and almost to end his life.

 **St. Catherine's Children's Home, May 10, 1986**

The phone on Sister Ellen's desk rang and she reached over to answer.

"It's a boy!" came the excited announcement.

"Oh, Jon!" she exclaimed. "That's wonderful! How is Sara?"

"She's exhausted, but fine—and just as excited as I am!"

"Tell me about the baby."

"He has blond hair, like Sara's. And blue eyes. Don't all babies have blue eyes at first, though?" he asked, but then rushed on before she could respond. "Sara went into labor about ten o'clock last night, and he was born at 7:14 this morning. Six pounds, fourteen ounces. Twenty inches. Ten fingers and ten toes and a magnificent pair of lungs! Can you come to Colorado Springs? I want him to meet you as soon as possible."

She laughed with delight. "I should be able to get away by the weekend. Let me check with Sister Mary Francis and I'll call you back. What's his name?"

"Charles Dylan Michael O'Neill."

"That's wonderful, Jon! I can't wait to see him! I'll call you when I know about my flight. Give Sara my love."

"I will," he said, and she could hear the smile in his voice.

 **St. Cat's Children's Home, August 18, 1994**

Another telephone call...

"Charlie's dead..." Jon's voice was barely recognizable, the voice of a broken man.

Sister Ellen gasped in shock. "What? Jon, what are you saying..."

"He... he found my gun... shot himself..."

"Oh, Lord," she whispered. "Jonny..."

"Can you come? Please?" he begged.

"Yes, of course. I'll be there in a few hours. Hold on, Jon. God is with you."

"Yeah," was all he said.

She cried after she hung up the phone, and said a prayer, but it didn't stop her from hurrying to make travel arrangements. Before she made reservations, she called Betsy. Three hours later the two grieving women boarded a plane to Denver.

 **~x~**

The funeral was excruciating. Ellen had never known anything like it. She was horrified to see that Jack and Sara did not even try to comfort one another. Sara stood beside her father, his arms wrapped around her tightly, while Jack isolated himself. Ellen and Betsy stayed close beside him, Betsy holding on to his hand and Ellen with an arm around his waist—but despite that, he was alone, his withdrawal an almost-visible shield surrounding him, his gaze fastened on the small coffin.

The graveside service ended and the people slowly dispersed. Mike Laughlin led Sara away, pausing for a moment to place one hand on Jack's shoulder. Sara ignored her husband, and Jack did not acknowledge either her or her father. Mike turned and steered Sara in the direction of the cars.

Finally only Jack, Ellen and Betsy were left standing beside the little grave...

"Will you come home with us, Jon?" Ellen asked as they eventually made their way back to the cars.

He shook his head. "I can't. I have an assignment."

"Now? How can they..."

"I have an assignment," he repeated. "I have to report to Cheyenne Mountain day after tomorrow."

"We'll stay with you until then," Ellen promised.

 **Chicago General Hospital cafeteria, April 11, 2009**

Jack rested his forehead in his hand, elbow on the table, as he recalled that dreadful event. A few days after Charlie's funeral, he had stepped through an event horizon, expecting never to return alive...

He was pulled abruptly from his thoughts by the sound of rapidly approaching footsteps. He looked up to see Dylan's son, Robert, hurrying toward them. Jack was on his feet by the time the younger man reached the table. "Robby?" he demanded.

Rob reached for Jack's arm. "Aunt Ellen's awake, Jack. She's asking for you."

Jack was gone before the last words were out of Rob's mouth.

 **~x~**

 **Author Note: Yes, I know that 'I Will be Right Here Waiting for You' was not released until 1989, but it's one of my favorite songs and I think it fits well. Also this is an AU, so maybe it was out by then...**


	10. Chapter 10

**Chicago General Hospital, April 11, 2009**

 **Previously…**

Jack rested his forehead in his hand as he recalled the dreadful details of the day of Charlie's funeral. A few days after that event, he had stepped through an event horizon, expecting never to return alive…

He was pulled abruptly from his thoughts by the sound of rapidly approaching footsteps. Looking up, he saw Dylan's son, Robert, hurrying toward them. Jack was on his feet by the time the younger man reached the table. "Robby?" he demanded.

Rob reached for Jack's arm. "Aunt Ellen's awake, Jack. She's asking for you."

Jack was gone before the last words were out of Rob's mouth.

 **Chapter 10**

Family members were gathered outside Ellen's room when Jack arrived. Father Nick took Jack's arm and ushered him toward the door.

"She asked for you, Jack."

Something in the priest's voice told Jack this wasn't necessarily a good thing. "Nick?" he asked.

Nick shook his head. "I don't know."

Jack felt Sam's hand slip into his—she had been only a step behind him. The firm feel of her palm against his gave him courage.

The door opened and Aaron stood there. "Come in, Jack," he said quietly.

He squeezed Sam's hand, then let it go and stepped forward. He sensed Betsy and David moving into the room behind him.

Ellen lay still and quiet, an oxygen cannula was in the place of the mask and her eyes were closed. Jack came closer to the bed, and she must have sensed him, because her eyes fluttered open and after a moment of uncertainty they found his face.

He lowered himself to the bedside chair and reached out to take her hand.

"Jon…" she whispered weakly.

"Shhh… don't try to talk," he said. "Save your strength."

She gave a very slight shake of her head. "No. Nothing to save. I only want… to see you one more time…"

"Ellen…" He choked on the word. Her fingers tightened slightly on his, as if in comfort. "I love you," he said, taking her hand in both of his and ignoring the tears that slid down his cheeks.

Her lips moved, but he couldn't hear her. He knelt off the chair, onto the floor to put his face near hers, so that he could hear her words. "I love you, son."

Her eyes closed then, and her fingers relaxed in his. "Ellen…" he said urgently. She didn't answer. He drew a sharp breath and raised his gaze to meet Aaron's.

Aaron put his fingers on Ellen's wrist, and then checked the readings on the machines and replaced the oxygen mask. "She's unconscious again," he said quietly. "I'm sorry, Jack. I don't think it will be much longer."

It was several minutes before Jack released Ellen's hand and rose to his feet.

 **~x~**

"Uncle Jack?"

He startled at the sound of his name, and looked up to meet Sandy's eyes. Lost in memories, he'd forgotten where he was, and he glanced around almost in surprise at the waiting room. He'd come here after he left Ellen's room a little while ago. Sam was sitting beside him, and Betsy and David were nearby.

"Yes, sweetheart?" he responded to his niece after a second.

"How long has Aunt Ellen been a nun?"

"Well..." He thought for a moment. "She was serving her novitiate when I came along. I was just a few weeks old when I came to St. Cat's."

"How old are you, Uncle Jack?"

"Fifty-six," he answered.

"So Aunt Ellen's been a nun for at least 56 years," Sandy concluded. "She was young."

"Actually, she was very young when she decided that was what she wanted," her Uncle David put in. "Da said that she was eleven when she told him. But she knew before that."

"That's right," Betsy said. "She made that decision on the day that the telegram came..."

 **Chicago, July 1942**

Eight-year-old Ellen McNamara headed out the front door of their house with her three younger siblings. Carrying two-year-old Brendan, and herding Molly, and Joseph, four and five respectively, ahead of her, she hurriedly closed the door behind them, shutting out her mother's cries from upstairs. Now that the doctor was here, she could get the younger children out of the house and reassure them that Mama was all right. Molly was sniffling, and Brendan was crying outright at the sounds of distress from their mother.

She herded her little crew in the direction of a nearby park, talking quietly all the while to them. "Mama's fine. You'll see—in just a few hours she'll be smiling, and happy to see us all. And we'll go up and meet our new sister or brother..."

"I hope it's a sister," Molly sniffed. "Mama said she would call her Pegeen if it's a girl."

Ellen smiled, and devoutly hoped the baby would be a boy, for its own sake!

Ellen wished Da was home. He was in the Navy, and right now he was on a ship somewhere out in the South Pacific Ocean, fighting the Japanese. She had only the vaguest notion of where the South Pacific might be, but she knew what war was, and she worried about her father constantly. She remembered December 7th, last year, when the news came over the radio that Japan had attacked a place called Pearl Harbor, which was in Hawaii, a part of the United States. She'd listened with her parents to President Roosevelt's speech. The beginning words still echoed in her memory;

 _Yesterday, December 7, 1941, a date which will live in infamy, the United States was suddenly and deliberately attacked by naval and air forces of the Empire of Japan._

Ellen hadn't understood a lot of the whys and wherefores of the President's speech, but a statement near the end still stuck in her mind;

 _..._ _we will not only defend ourselves to the uttermost but will make very certain that this form of treachery shall never endanger us again._

Those words had evidently struck a chord with her father also, because later she heard him quote them when he told Ellen's mother that he was joining the Navy. The argument that ensued between Dylan and Bridget McNamara had caused Ellen to cringe in the hallway outside her parents' closed bedroom door, and then hurry to distract her brothers and sister from the raised voices.

Her Da had been gone for five months now, and Ellen missed him terribly. She prayed every night to the Virgin Mary and the Baby Jesus to keep her father safe. Unlike her mother, however, Ellen understood why her father had to go. She knew he felt that fighting for his country was the best way to protect his family.

The baby was a boy, healthy and strong, and Bridget named him Dylan.

 **Chicago, August 1943**

Thirteen month old Dylan McNamara took his first steps on the day the telegram arrived.

Bridget had gone to the market and taken Molly and Joseph with her, and Ellen was home with Brendan and Dylan. When there was a knock on the door, she thought it was her mother with her arms full, so she ran to throw the door open.

A Western Union delivery man was standing there, his bicycle lying on the steps of the row house. He held a yellow envelope in his hand. They stared at each other. The man's jaw clenched. He hated this job, and he especially hated it when kids answered the door.

"Looking for Mrs. Bridget McNamara," he said.

"Mama..." Ellen began, but the word was inaudible, so she cleared her throat and tried again. "Mama's not here. She went to the market." She stared at the envelope.

"I'm sorry," he said, holding it out to her.

It took her a moment to reach for it. "Thank you," she whispered.

He started to turn around, then paused. "Look, I can wait until your Mama gets home, if you want."

She looked up at him. His eyes were kind. But Mama always said to beware of strange men. "That's okay. She'll be home soon. Thanks anyway."

He nodded. "I'm sorry," he repeated, and descended the steps.

She noticed that he limped and wondered if he was wounded in the war.

Ellen brought the envelope into the house and dropped it on the hall table as if it burned her hand. She hurried into the front room. Little Dylan was sleeping on a blanket on the floor, and three-year-old Brendan was playing with a toy train. He looked up when Ellen came in. "Mama?"

"Not yet, sweetie. Do you want some crackers?"

He grinned and nodded and followed her into the kitchen. She sat him at the table and gave him three dry crackers, spread with a tiny bit of the precious honey they got from their neighbor.

All the time she was thinking of the yellow envelope. And praying.

After he finished the crackers, Brendan held up his arms to Ellen. "Wock?" he asked. Carrying him into the front room, she sat down in the only rocking chair. She hummed softly to him and within a few minutes he fell asleep. She laid him down on the pallet beside Dylan.

Back in the front hall, Ellen stared for several long minutes at the yellow envelope. She closed her eyes tight. _Please, Baby Jesus, make it all right._ Suddenly a feeling of warmth and strength flowed through her body and mind. Without conscious direction on her part, her hand reached out and picked up the envelope. She walked over to the stairs and sat down. With one quick, sure motion, she slipped her finger under the flap and ripped the message open, removing the folded sheet of paper and opening it before she could reconsider.

She read from the top of the page;

"Washington DC, Aug 19, 1943

Mrs. Bridget McNamara, 7865 101st St., Chicago Ill.

Regret to inform you that your husband, Petty Officer 3rd Class Dylan J. McNamara, was, on eleven August, slightly wounded in action..."

Ellen's eyes stopped, retraced.

...slightly wounded...

... _slightly wounded...!_

She couldn't read any more, because the tears were pouring from her eyes. And she was laughing. "Wounded! Thank you, Baby Jesus!" she whispered.

When Bridget came home a quarter of an hour later, that's where she found Ellen—sitting on the stairs, laughing and crying.

That evening with everyone watching, little Dylan McNamara crawled over to a chair and pulled himself up to his feet. Then with a happy shriek, he launched himself into the void, taking four triumphant steps on his own before landing with a plop on his bottom.

Dylan Senior's injury turned out to be a flesh wound in the arm. He was treated in the ship's infirmary, and was back in action a day later.

 **Chicago, December, 1945**

"I want to be a nun, Da," eleven-year-old Ellen announced at the dinner table one night. Her father had been discharged from the Navy three weeks earlier, and arrived home just in time for Christmas.

Dylan McNamara stopped with his fork halfway to his mouth and looked at his oldest child. "You do? I didn't know you'd ever thought of that. When did you decide, love?"

"The day the telegram came."

Dylan lowered the fork and looked at his wife. "Telegram?"

"The notification that you were wounded," Bridget explained. "Ellie was here with the babies when it came. I had taken Molly and Joe with me to the market."

Dylan turned back to Ellen and reached over to cover her small hand with his. She was very smart, and she would have known what a telegram meant. "Oh, my darlin'," he said softly.

"It was okay, Da," she assured him, with a bright smile. "I asked Baby Jesus to make it okay. And then there was this warm, safe feeling, and I knew it would be fine, and that I should open the envelope. So I did—and it was wonderful, because you were wounded!"

Staring at his daughter, Dylan McNamara fisted one hand over his mouth, not sure if he wanted to laugh or cry.

 **Chicago General Hospital, April 11, 2009**

"Da used to tell us that story," Betsy said. She glanced over at David. "Remember how he always got that look in his eyes..."

"Yeah," her brother agreed. "He was really proud of Ellen. He said she was brave."

"I don't understand about the telegram..." Sandy said.

The older people exchanged glances. David smiled at his niece. "During the war telegrams were used to notify families that a relative had been wounded or killed in action. Back then there wasn't a faster way of communicating," he explained. "There were a lot of casualties. People lived in fear of the Western Union delivery guy showing up at their door."

"Oh." Sandy said softly. "She really was brave."

"Yes." Jack nodded, reaching over to squeeze her hand. "She was."

 **Chicago General Hospital, April 11, 2009, 2354 hours**

Sister Ellen McNamara died just before midnight, eight and one half hours after Jack had arrived at the hospital.

Jack and Betsy were with her when she died. The rest of the family members were in the corridors and waiting rooms, sleeping awkwardly on uncomfortable chairs and couches, pacing, or talking together in quiet voices. A number of the staff members from St. Cat's were there also, along with friends and some of the grown-up children who had lived at the orphanage under Sister Ellen's care.

Aaron had left the room only a few minutes earlier, after bringing coffee for his wife and Jack. Sam had come in and tried to persuade them both to get some rest. Jack had promised to come and join her soon, but she had left knowing he would remain where he was.

The end came quietly. Betsy and Jack were talking softly about their childhood, when suddenly there was a small hitch in Ellen's breathing, drawing both their attention. Betsy leaned forward to touch her sister's hand and Jack placed his hand on Ellen's shoulder. They saw her eyes open, the expression in them clear and happy as she gazed at something they could not see. Beneath the oxygen mask they saw her smile. Then her eyes closed and her breath sighed for the last time. But the smile on her lips remained.

 **xxxxx**

 **I'm sorry it's taken me so long to finish this story. I've had bits and pieces of it written for quite some time, but could not make them come together the way I wanted. There will be one more chapter. Thank you for reading.**


	11. Chapter 11

**Thank you all for reading. This is the last chapter. I apologize for the long delay. Please enjoy.**

 **Previously…**

Sister Ellen McNamara died just before midnight, eight and one half hours after Jack had arrived at the hospital. Jack and Betsy were with her when she died.

The end came quietly. Betsy and Jack were talking softly about their childhood, when suddenly there was a small hitch in Ellen's breathing, drawing both their attention. Betsy leaned forward to touch her sister's hand and Jack placed his hand on Ellen's shoulder. They saw her eyes open, the expression in them clear and happy as she gazed at something they could not see. Beneath the oxygen mask they saw her smile. Then her eyes closed and her breath sighed for the last time. But the smile on her lips remained.

 **Chapter 11**

 **April 15, 2009, St. Catherine's Church, Chicago**

The church was filled to overflowing for Sister Ellen's funeral mass. Jack and Sam sat in the front pews with the rest of the large McNamara clan. Jack automatically followed along with the formal service, responding, kneeling and standing with the rest of the congregation. Sam sat quietly at his side, her hand warm in his.

Father Nick Regan conducted the mass in his own meticulous and pedantic manner, drawing out each and every detail of the long service.

Afterwards, they all walked to St. Catherine's Cemetery, where Ellen was buried in the McNamara plot with her parents and brothers and sister.

 **~x~**

Jack was standing by the window of their hotel room, staring out over the city. He hadn't taken off his blues, merely unbuttoned the jacket and loosened his tie. Sam put her arms around him from behind and felt his hands cover hers on his chest. They'd left Betsy and Aaron's house—where they'd spent a couple of hours after the service—just a little while ago.

"I'm going to get a shower," she said softly.

He nodded. "Mmm," he said.

She let go slowly—releasing him softly, giving him the opportunity to hold on if he needed to, but he did not—and headed for the bathroom. Twenty minutes later when she emerged, she was surprised to see him still standing there, as if he had not moved at all. He didn't stir as she toweled her hair and ran a quick comb through it, then changed from her robe into pajamas.

"Are you okay?" she asked as she rested her hand on his waist.

He put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her against his side. "I will be. But right now… no, I guess I'm not," he admitted, still staring out of the window at the lights below. "I'm an orphan," he said in a strangely subdued voice.

She caught her breath and closed her eyes for a moment, fighting off a stab of pain. "I know how that feels."

"Yes... you do." His voice was soft and he put both arms around her and kissed the top of her head. She melted against him, holding him up, letting him do the same for her. He wasn't done speaking. "I was an orphan for the first time fifty-six years ago. Abandoned-it's the same thing, isn't it? I was just lucky Ellen was the one who found me." He took a deep, slow breath. "She could still be out there somewhere—Katy Shannon O'Neill," he said, almost absently. "She was younger than Ellen."

Maybe it was not really so strange that he was thinking about his birth mother on the day of his _true_ mother's funeral, Sam thought. Although on the face of it she was a bit surprised—except when he'd first confided in her about his origins, she'd never heard him say her name.

"Have you ever looked for her?" Sam ventured.

He shook his head. "No. She gave me to Ellen. If she'd wanted me she knew where to find me." There was something hard and final in his tone.

"She was only a child herself, Jack," she said softly.

He didn't answer and she said no more.

 **An apartment building across the city…**

The old woman bore little resemblance to the tall, auburn-haired girl who had waylaid Sister Ellen on the sidewalk all those years ago. Her hair was almost completely white now. Her body was far too thin, and her movements stiff with arthritis. Kate Bell had recently passed her seventy-first birthday, but a stranger seeing her might easily have guessed several years beyond that number. Only the deep brown eyes were the same—still sharp without the need for glasses.

The bookstore where she worked had closed today in deference to the funeral of Sister Ellen McNamara, so she had joined the thousands of people who stood outside the packed church where the funeral Mass was held, and watched as the well-known and well-loved administrator of the Children's Home was carried to her final rest.

On her way home Kate stopped to get the evening paper, knowing the story would be there. Crossing the room slowly, she dropped the newspaper onto the kitchen table then turned to put on the tea kettle.

Shortly, with her cup of tea in hand, she sat down and opened the paper, turning the pages until she found what she was looking for. There, on a full double page spread, complete with pictures, was the story of Sister Ellen's service at St. Cat's from the time she arrived there as a novice the age of seventeen. The story told of the many children she had helped to nurture and raise through the course of fifty-seven years, of her dedication to their welfare and her untiring efforts on behalf of all the children of the city.

One paragraph related how Sister Ellen almost single-handedly prevented St. Cat's from closing thirty years earlier by visiting the Bishop and convincing him that the Home was essential to the children of the city. Money was somehow found to keep the orphanage doors open. There'd been a rumor that Ellen went to the head of the crime syndicate in the city and shamed him into giving them the funds! Kate doubted that, although the image amused her.

At any rate, Sister Ellen was a hero to the residents of Chicago. Many prominent people were present at the funeral; among them were the city's Mayor, the Governor of the State, a number of local and state officials—and one high-ranking United States Air Force Officer, Lieutenant General Jonathan O'Neill.

General O'Neill, the story went on to say, was one of the children who had been raised at St. Catherine's. He had lived there until graduating from high school and then had joined the Air Force, where he'd gone on to have a very distinguished career.

Kate studied the picture of him, as he stood with the McNamara clan beside the casket, a tall blond woman identified as his wife at his side. She was bemused at how much he looked like her father—his namesake. The resemblance was almost uncanny. She had named the baby after her Da in hopes of softening the old man toward the little bastard she'd brought into his house. It didn't work. If anything it only made him angrier and more adamant that the child should not be allowed to stay under his roof.

She'd had no choice. Her boyfriend had gone off and joined the Army before she even knew she was pregnant. He was killed in a skirmish along the 38th parallel in Korea, just two weeks after he arrived in the country. Katy was fourteen years old.

She hid her condition for as long as she could. Her mother found out when Katy was five months along. Despite Kate's pleas not to tell her father, Lily O'Neill did just that. Jonathan was incensed, and after a vitriolic rant against his daughter's immoral behavior, he barely spoke to her for the remainder of her pregnancy. When the baby was born, he refused to have anything to do with him, and gave his daughter an ultimatum—get rid of him or get out...

Kate sighed and pushed away the memories. Jon looked like he'd done pretty well for himself, she thought, leaning closer to take in the details of his appearance. _A General even! A General's got to make a good living... And his wife sure looks like a high-class lady._

Kate wondered what Jon would think if she were to call on him and tell him she was his real mother. Not that she was going to do that—she'd had nothing to give him back then, and she had even less now. It definitely appeared that she had done the right thing for him all those years ago. She was glad of that. But handing him over to Sister Ellen had been the hardest thing she'd ever done. An even more bitter pill was the fact that she had never had any other children…

After a while she wiped away the unwelcome tears from her eyes. Reaching for a pair of scissors, Kate carefully cut out the picture of General Jonathan O'Neill. Then she folded the newspaper and set it aside.

With the picture in hand, she went into her bedroom and took down a box from a closet shelf. Sitting on the bed, she opened the box and looked down at the contents. Inside were a number of letters. Without counting, she knew exactly how many—there were twenty-four. Now there would never be another one. Kate put the picture of Jonathan in the box with the letters and replaced the lid.

 **April 17, 2009  
**

Jack, Sam and Daniel left Chicago two days after Sister Ellen's funeral. Betsy and Aaron, Sandy, Karen, David and Dylan came to the airfield to see them off.

"Let's get everyone together at the cabin this summer," Jack suggested. "We haven't done that in a quite long time. How does the middle of August sound?"

"Good idea," David said enthusiastically.

"Bets?" Jack asked.

"Yes," she agreed. "Maybe around the second week. Want me to get in touch with everybody and set it up?"

"Yeah. Do you mind?"

"Not at all. I'll email you and we'll work out the details." Betsy reached out and hugged him. "I love you, Jacky," she whispered.

"Me, too," he replied.

An Air Force Major approached the group, stood at attention and saluted Jack. "Sorry to interrupt, sir. But the pilot is ready to depart. Our clearance is in fifteen minutes."

"Coming, Major." Jack nodded to him. "Thanks."

Jack shook hands with Aaron, Dylan and David, and hugged his two nieces. Then he, Sam and Daniel followed the Major out to the waiting airplane.

 **April 22, 2009, Chicago**

Betsy found the letter a week after the funeral, when she was going through her sister's room at St. Catherine's. It was sealed and addressed, but not stamped. Very likely Ellen intended to mail it the day she had the heart attack, Betsy thought. She read the name and address with a frown; Mrs. Kate Bell, 1134 Orlando St. Apt.2C., Chicago, Ill.

It wasn't a thick letter, a couple of pages at the most. Ellen hadn't used a St. Catherine's official envelope, so probably the letter was personal. A friend? Betsy had never heard the name, but then she was unlikely to have known all of Ellen's friends. She decided that she should see that the letter got to its intended destination.

It was late afternoon before Betsy finished at St. Cat's and then took a cab to Kate Bell's address. It was a poor neighborhood. The apartment buildings were shabby and rundown.

Someone took the time to keep the vestibule clean she noticed when she entered the front door. She searched the names and found the one she was looking for. The apartment she wanted was on the second floor. She climbed the stairs and found the door and knocked.

It was a few moments before the door was opened by an older woman. She had white hair and pale skin, and was slightly stooped. "Yes?"

"Mrs. Kate Bell?" Betsy asked.

"Yes."

"My name is Betsy Cohen. My sister was Ellen McNamara." She saw the woman's brows rise. "Did you know my sister?"

There was a hesitation before the woman spoke. "I… I met her… long ago."

"I was going through Ellen's things and I found a letter addressed to you." Betsy held out the envelope she had in her hand.

Kate took the envelope. It was sealed. "Thank you," she said gratefully, clasping the envelope to her breast.

"It must have been one of the last things she did," Betsy said. "I thought you should have it."

"Thank you," Kate said again. After a moment she stepped back and opened the door wider. "Would you like to come in?"

She really should decline, Betsy thought, but there was something about the woman that seemed familiar, and her curiosity won out. "Thank you."

She followed Kate Bell into a small, immaculate living room, and took a seat on the chair that Kate indicated. "Did you know Ellen well?" She couldn't help asking the question.

Kate hesitated. "No, not really," she gave a small smile. "It was… years ago."

The smile made Betsy blink. So familiar! "Have you and I met?" she asked. "I feel I should know you."

The older woman shook her head. "No. We've never met. Would you like a cup of tea?"

"I don't want to trouble you…"

"I was just going to have a cup myself. The water's already on." Her eyes crinkled as she smiled again—deep dark brown eyes…

Again, Betsy had the strong feeling that she'd looked into those eyes before.

Kate poured the tea and the two women sat and talked, mostly about Ellen. Kate explained that she had grown up in the neighborhood near St. Cat's, and had met Ellen when she was a novice there. The two young women had struck up a kind of friendship, and had kept in touch over the years. Betsy decided that she must have seen Kate back then, and that was why she seemed familiar.

After twenty minutes or so, Betsy took her leave.

"Thank you very much for bringing me the letter," Kate said to her. "It gives me something to remember her by."

Kate opened the letter as soon as Betsy was gone. The last time Ellen had written her was eighteen months ago, when Jon had gotten married. This one had no great news, just that Jon was well, and still living in Washington, that he and his wife were happy, despite having to commute across the country. Jon had received another promotion, Ellen wrote, and was now a three star general.

The letters had never come any more often than a year, and most were two and three years apart.

Kate read the letter twice, then put it away with the others. Her thoughts went back to the day she met Ellen.

 **Chicago, December, 1952**

Katy hurried down the street away from the orphanage, and turned the first corner she came to. She hated herself, but she had no choice. She was fifteen, with no job, nowhere to live and no way to take care of a baby on her own.

"I took him to St. Cat's," she told her parents that evening. The elder Jonathan O'Neill did not say a word, did not even acknowledge that she had spoken.

Things in the household went back to the way they were before the baby was born. He was never mentioned again—it was if he'd never existed.

Katy tried to forget. She gave away the few items she'd gotten for Jon. But she cried at night.

She never went back to school. Soon she found a job in a bookstore many blocks away. She walked to work every weekday. After she began to save a little money she would take the bus if the weather was bad. She often dreamed of Jonny.

Winter passed and one warm day early in May she found herself walking past the park near the orphanage. There were children playing on the swing and in the sandbox, and three young nuns were watching them. Katy recognized the nun she had given Jonny to five months earlier.

She couldn't help herself—she sat down on a bench a short distance away and watched the children. There were two little ones in buggies and she wondered if one of them might be Jonny. The sister spread blankets on the grass and put the babies down on them. One of the babies was too young and so she studied the other. He was very active, squirming around on the blanket and rolling over until he was off on the grass.

The nun laughed and went over to rearrange him. "Look at you, Jon!" she said affectionately, picking up the child and cuddling him in one arm while she straightened the blanket with her free hand. "You'll be crawling before we know it, won't you?"

"Oh, I hope not, Sister Ellen!" one of the novices exclaimed. "It's hard enough to keep up with him now!"

Ellen laughed again. "Then we'll have to work harder. He'll probably walk early, too, just to keep us entertained."

Katy could hardly breathe as she stared at the baby in Ellen's arms. Yes, it was Jonny! She recognized him even after all these months. That little crooked smile hadn't changed, and his eyes were just like her Da's! He was beautiful! Later she would wonder why such a beautiful child hadn't been adopted, but at the moment all she could think was how much she missed him. When she realized she was about to cry she jumped up and hurried away.

She went to the park often in the next few months—she couldn't stay away. Jonny started crawling a few weeks later and walked at eleven months.

Ellen noticed her, recognized her the first time Kate appeared in the park. She was not surprised to see her there frequently through the summer. She debated with herself whether to speak to the girl.

And then she stopped coming.

Katy forced herself to stay away. It was a rainy autumn, and the children were not in the park as often, so that made it a bit easier…or so she told herself. She took longer hours at the bookstore, working until six in the evening, too late for the children to be out. And she met Emmett Bell.

Emmett was the nephew of the bookstore owner. He was twenty-two, and had been away in the army for the past four years. But now he was home, discharged and looking for work. He like Kate the minute he saw her. They started dating and within a month he asked her to marry him.

She went back to the park one warm sunny day in late October. She sat and watched the children. By then Jonny was running! She watched as he tired himself out and fell asleep on the blanket.

Kate was surprised when Sister Ellen walked over and sat down beside her.

"We missed you," Ellen said quietly. "Are you well?"

Katy stared at her for a moment before she found her voice. "Yes. How is he?"

"He's wonderful," Ellen assured her. "Healthy and happy as you can see. Full of energy and mischief, just like a little boy should be."

"You love him," Kate said.

"We all love him."

For several minutes they watched silently as Jonny slept.

"Why hasn't he been adopted?" Kate asked.

Ellen laughed. "It seems he doesn't want to be." She told Kate about the abortive attempts. Katy smiled at the story.

"I'm getting married soon," Katy told Ellen.

"Congratulations," Ellen said, glancing at Jon.

Kate saw the look and interpreted it correctly. "No, it isn't his father. Jon's da was killed in Korea before Jonny was born."

"I'm sorry," Ellen said gently.

"He never even knew about the baby. I had to bring him to you. I couldn't keep him."

"Yes… you wrote that in the note."

Katy nodded. "Emmett, the man I'm going to marry, just got out of the army. He wants to move to another city and get a job in one of the automobile factories. We're going next week, right after the wedding."

"Jon?" Ellen asked.

Kate shook her head. Tears came to her eyes, and she closed them quickly. "He's better off with you. Emmett doesn't know…"

The second time Kate left him was even harder than the first. Ellen offered to write to her occasionally and let her know about Jon, so when she and Emmett were settled, she sent Ellen her address.

Ellen wrote, just as she promised. There were twenty-four letters in all, spaced out over the years.

Kate's marriage was tolerable, but then she hadn't expected anything special. There were no children, and she was alternately sad and relieved about that. She went to work in a bookstore again, in the new city. Emmett found a job in a factory, but he never advanced beyond the assembly line. Eventually his health deteriorated and at fifty years old he suffered a heart attack. He died two years later.

Kate returned to Chicago nearly thirty years after she left. She found a small apartment and a job—in yet another bookstore, where she was still working, despite the arthritis.

 **April 22, 2009, Chicago**

Kate walked slowly back to the kitchen. She took a chicken casserole out of the oven where it had been cooking. She sat down alone and ate her dinner, just as she did every night. Just as she would every night for the rest of her life.

 **The End**

 **Thank you very much for reading my story. I appreciate all of the comments that you sent, and hope you enjoyed what you read.**

 **This chapter ended up much longer than I had planned, but I could not leave the details about Kate untold. Thanks again!**


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